Christmas ficlet for Brutti
Dec. 15th, 2010 05:27 pmI meant it as a drabble; it is not. As if Darla doesn't always have her own ideas about things.
Merry Christmas,
brutti_ma_buoni!
Darla, Giles, circa "Welcome to the Hellmouth"
Double drabble (200 words)
Better When Aged
Sitting in the Bronze, skirt spread coyly over her knees, Darla is stalking her prey. That’s fun. Her prey thinks it’s stalking her; that’s even better.
A man, tweedy, weak-eyed, bumbles between her and her tender morsel. “So sorry,” he says. His gaze catches on her. “I’m looking for Buffy Summers. Have you seen her?”
“No,” she says. Not so tweedy, really: there’s liquor and wild nights wrinkling the corners of his eyes; there’s some hard delicious truth buried under that diffident accent. Much tastier than the foolish lamb scowling at him. She smiles. “Maybe you’re looking for me, instead.”
For a moment he pauses, transfixed: caught in the cobra’s stare. “So sorry,” he says again, shaking his head clear as he pushes past. “Must find her.”
Her blood’s up now, and her starry-eyed boy is still lurking hopefully. She lures him away, pulls him into an alley, and leans in for a taste, imagining cries of English agony, but he’s flushed and eager as a debutante; his fingers fumble; he’s entirely lacking.
The Master should like him fine, then; he’s always had a weakness for youth. Later, she promises herself. She’ll find the appetizing Englishman and devour him later.
finis
Merry Christmas,
Darla, Giles, circa "Welcome to the Hellmouth"
Double drabble (200 words)
Better When Aged
Sitting in the Bronze, skirt spread coyly over her knees, Darla is stalking her prey. That’s fun. Her prey thinks it’s stalking her; that’s even better.
A man, tweedy, weak-eyed, bumbles between her and her tender morsel. “So sorry,” he says. His gaze catches on her. “I’m looking for Buffy Summers. Have you seen her?”
“No,” she says. Not so tweedy, really: there’s liquor and wild nights wrinkling the corners of his eyes; there’s some hard delicious truth buried under that diffident accent. Much tastier than the foolish lamb scowling at him. She smiles. “Maybe you’re looking for me, instead.”
For a moment he pauses, transfixed: caught in the cobra’s stare. “So sorry,” he says again, shaking his head clear as he pushes past. “Must find her.”
Her blood’s up now, and her starry-eyed boy is still lurking hopefully. She lures him away, pulls him into an alley, and leans in for a taste, imagining cries of English agony, but he’s flushed and eager as a debutante; his fingers fumble; he’s entirely lacking.
The Master should like him fine, then; he’s always had a weakness for youth. Later, she promises herself. She’ll find the appetizing Englishman and devour him later.
finis
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Date: 2010-12-16 01:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-16 06:49 pm (UTC)Thank you!
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Date: 2010-12-16 03:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-16 06:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-16 06:17 am (UTC)Wonderful Darla, stalking her prey by sitting still, skirt modestly arranged. Mmmmmmonsterful!
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Date: 2010-12-16 09:06 pm (UTC)It is so true! And, as you say, not unduly so when it comes to Giles.
Thank you so much for the yummy comment. :)
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Date: 2010-12-16 08:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-16 06:53 pm (UTC)I'm so glad you enjoyed! At first I was thinking Giles, and then I was thinking Darla, and then the idea occurred that I could have both. *g*
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Date: 2010-12-19 11:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-19 11:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-20 06:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-23 02:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-23 07:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-07 05:02 am (UTC)Oh my Lord. Giles doesn't know what a lucky escape he had. Loved how Darla could sense the Ripper in him.
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Date: 2011-03-07 05:23 am (UTC)Thank you for the comment!